Seriously...I don't want to deal with this anymore.
Please.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I hate my sexuality, my emotions, my mental state, my weakness, my fear, my loves, my lusts, my desires, my weaknesses, my being, myself, my core, my central thought, my spirit, my intellect and my philosophy.
So much wrong and yet there is so much left that has potential and could be right.
Could be.
So very close.
So much wrong and yet there is so much left that has potential and could be right.
Could be.
So very close.
I'm still in literal fear for my life...even though it was on Monday...or Tuesday...or something. I can't even remember all that well. This week has just been a medicated haze...if I didn't need the pills for control of the nausea and pain then I would have never taken them. I'm out of antidepressants and I'm much to freaked out to back to the psychiatrist.
It is a weird place to be...it feels like I'm almost dead and almost alive...this gray place between light and dark. There is a weird contradiction in me being here, being alive, feeling, thinking, processing when there is so much...anti-life...so much death at every possible intersection and corner of life.
It isn't dramatic when you stop to think that every word is a symbol and has meaning only in proper context and enunciation...it is a construct we invented to keep our sanity, just like time. We lord our man made constructions as being God like in order for us to hurt and press down on those we deem inferior.
Not being able to pronounce every word correctly, making spelling and grammatical errors...yeah, that makes you such a big shot. Makes me look ignorant and stupid, shows me as being the genetic mistake that I am.
Every ounce of academic knowledge you so desperately cling to...as if it were some grand and impervious defense...as much as you like to pretend you are something special, somehow bigger and better...you are absolutely nothing.
My memories, my pain, my emotions are something tangible. My experiences with the other is something tangible. Maybe not to you or to others but it is something.
Every last tear I have cried, every shred of my innocence ripped from my being, every last inch of my sanity that I have lost in this fight...all of them are real. Real as the grave markers that show where my dead family lay.
It is a weird place to be...it feels like I'm almost dead and almost alive...this gray place between light and dark. There is a weird contradiction in me being here, being alive, feeling, thinking, processing when there is so much...anti-life...so much death at every possible intersection and corner of life.
It isn't dramatic when you stop to think that every word is a symbol and has meaning only in proper context and enunciation...it is a construct we invented to keep our sanity, just like time. We lord our man made constructions as being God like in order for us to hurt and press down on those we deem inferior.
Not being able to pronounce every word correctly, making spelling and grammatical errors...yeah, that makes you such a big shot. Makes me look ignorant and stupid, shows me as being the genetic mistake that I am.
Every ounce of academic knowledge you so desperately cling to...as if it were some grand and impervious defense...as much as you like to pretend you are something special, somehow bigger and better...you are absolutely nothing.
My memories, my pain, my emotions are something tangible. My experiences with the other is something tangible. Maybe not to you or to others but it is something.
Every last tear I have cried, every shred of my innocence ripped from my being, every last inch of my sanity that I have lost in this fight...all of them are real. Real as the grave markers that show where my dead family lay.
I'm reminded of any and everything.
The things you are, the words you have said.
Everything.
Fleeting words in the air. The smell of decay. The rampant self thought.
It all has basis in images, metaphors and the lack of communication.
Walls.
I mean, getting past the crappy prose and poetry, realize none of this has any relevancy.
The point exists far beyond your ability to comprehend that you do not understand your lack of ability to understand.
Every last metaphorical romp is at best half guessed at worse nothing less then the grand total of nothing.
At the same time, this is a stirring deep within me.
Far beyond these desolate dunes and forsaken deserts is a hope for eternity.
Beyond this pain, this malfunctioning machine posing as a human, there is a soul whose heart beats will move into eternity.
Nothing fleeting will be eternal but this hope of my heart is something beyond any comprehension.
The broken body and collection of blood was enough to redeem an unfathomable mass, if so then I know I am not above redemption. That only my pride needs to die that I may find myself truly alive.
The things you are, the words you have said.
Everything.
Fleeting words in the air. The smell of decay. The rampant self thought.
It all has basis in images, metaphors and the lack of communication.
Walls.
I mean, getting past the crappy prose and poetry, realize none of this has any relevancy.
The point exists far beyond your ability to comprehend that you do not understand your lack of ability to understand.
Every last metaphorical romp is at best half guessed at worse nothing less then the grand total of nothing.
At the same time, this is a stirring deep within me.
Far beyond these desolate dunes and forsaken deserts is a hope for eternity.
Beyond this pain, this malfunctioning machine posing as a human, there is a soul whose heart beats will move into eternity.
Nothing fleeting will be eternal but this hope of my heart is something beyond any comprehension.
The broken body and collection of blood was enough to redeem an unfathomable mass, if so then I know I am not above redemption. That only my pride needs to die that I may find myself truly alive.
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